


Alea iacta est

by nonbinarywithaknife (littleboxes)



Series: dimension 20 [44]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Fuck the Bulbian Church, Gen, Heresy, Lapin Cadbury Lives, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, belizabeth brassica gets her shit fucked, not fluff but very cathartic (i think)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25082188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleboxes/pseuds/nonbinarywithaknife
Summary: Lapin has not found much- any- amusement in his long years of deception, too busy quite literally lying for his life to derive much fun from it, but in the second before he casts the spell, seeing horror wash into the eyes of every Bulbian in the room, Lapin feels a vicious smile overtake his face.He allows it because no doubt to them, it adds to the image of a mad heretic on his unholy course. Mostly, though, he’s thinking about how all the pieces must be falling into the places he has carved for them in Belizabeth’s mind.(Zac said if the church fight had never happened, Lapin was going to make a speech about being the villain and thunderstep out with Liam. Here's a universe where he does so.)
Relationships: Lapin Cadbury & Liam Wilhelmina
Series: dimension 20 [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706107
Comments: 20
Kudos: 109





	Alea iacta est

**Author's Note:**

> there is a very brief mention of hanging if you want to skip it go from "into the eyes" to "saw no faith and no devotion"

Amethar watches, watches from his _front row seat_ , as the Pontifex holds his sister’s book- Amethar isn’t religious, really, doesn’t care for the Bulb or the spirits Sapphria honored, but as he watches Brassica hold Citrina’s book of leaves in her hand, he thinks he understands what blasphemy feels like- and declares Liam an apostate, sentences him to death. 

There are political currents rushing around him, and like a drowning animal, he feels what carries his death, and doesn’t understand it enough to stop it. Amethar is a good man and a better soldier, but he was never taught how to swim in these waters. Despite his lack of understanding coming mostly through no fault of his own, he curses it nonetheless.

As naked fear crosses Liam’s face, Amethar’s hand finds the hilt of Payment Day. He looks at Jet and sees the motion mirrored, her hand resting on Flickerish’s hilt, a grim smile on her face, and that’s what draws him out of his rising rage. He promised Liam that he wouldn’t let him die here, but they are surrounded by guards, surrounded by people who would slaughter them in seconds. Amethar is glaringly aware of the archers above them, pointed at the dais now, but their arrowheads easy to shift- is aware of the Imperials standing in formation at the only exit- is aware of the stone crossbeams blocking the fragile window glass from being shattered. 

This church is a killing box, and Amethar cannot lead his kids into a death trap. And yet- Liam _is_ one of his kids, seed guy or no, and the conflict raging in his heart during the seconds after the Pontifex’s declaration has reached no resolution when Lapin steps forward.

Amethar thinks of seeing the old primogen at the head of a guard complement come for Liam, and wonders what exactly he and the Pontifex said to each other. He searches his heart for trust to give and finds none. Narrows his eyes as Lapin sets a paw on Liam’s shoulders.

The Pontifex looks at him and Amethar can’t tell if she’s surprised or not. The crowd is whispering, shifting, so maybe this isn’t planned?

“Primogen Lapin… Do you volunteer to read the witch his last rights? Even the most wayward of apostates deserve the Bulb’s mercy in his last moments- the Church, after all, is kind, even to those who have wandered astray.”

Her words are sweet and their misplacement in her mouth sickens him. He can’t read Lapin’s expression either, which makes the words he says next even more of a shock.

“Primogen, yes… I am a primogen of your church, aren’t I?”

Lapin, keeping a paw on Liam’s shoulder, cocks his head slightly to the side, widens his eyes, and Amethar remembers seeing him disintegrate a man on the Sucrosi road. What-?

“One of your coveted miracle workers, like Alfredi- except, of course, she has been excommunicated for attempted murder- a dread misuse of her _gifts_. Like you, then. In fact, just yesterday, the two of us spoke in this very church, didn’t we, Belizabeth?”

His casual address makes the Vegetanians in the audience mutter with offense, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Just yesterday, we spoke… and yet, you truly have no idea what you have allowed to enter your beloved church?”

As Lapin speaks, his free hand flicks and the golden light of the bulb that has been filtering in through the stained glass turns a sugar plum shade of purple. 

If the symbolism wasn’t enough, if the air hadn’t thickened with the cloying smell of sugar plums as the magic had been cast, then the purple glow coming from Lapin’s _eyes_ certainly would have been enough of a give away as to the very much _non Bulbian_ origins of his spell. 

There are gasps of fear and horror, and Lapin speaks again, quicker, pressing the words into the horrified attentions of the crowd.

“A primogen of your church for decades, how many priests have I ordained, how many lost souls have I counseled? How many witches lurk in your hallowed halls? How many of your own have been tainted by the touch of apostasy? You will find no aid in the records I have burned, and I daresay my students are more well trained in the art of deception than I- good luck burning the heretics from your church without catching the rest of it in your pyre, _Belizabeth_ ,” Lapin says, slamming his lollistaff into the dais with a _crack_! and then a wave of sparkling purple roars at them, upending the flagstones and the pews.

Thunder booms and when the purple mist clears, both Lapin and Liam are gone, and there is a shocked silence before the congregated nobles erupt into chaos.

Lapin stands on the dais, watching young Liam Wilhelmina be sentenced to death for saving a life, and does not think of the Sugar Plum Fairy’s second wish. 

Instead, he sees tears gather in Liam’s eyes as his handcuffed arms hold Preston to his chest, and sees a frightened child who asked for none of this, and he does not sigh, or frown, or nod decisively. 

Instead, he steps forward, and places a paw on Liam’s shoulder. He feels the boy stiffen underneath his grip, and does not look at him. This will be difficult enough to pull off without the consequences of his failure staring him in the face as he does so. 

Brassica turns to him, a hint too sharply, and he sees the threat in her glare. He would be scared, if he were what she believes him to be. Instead, he keeps his face blank as she speaks, the words barbed despite the gentleness they’re wrapped in.

“Primogen Lapin… Do you volunteer to read the witch his last rights? Even the most wayward of apostates deserves the Bulb’s mercy in his last moments- the Church, after all, is kind.”

 _Dance to_ my _tune, lightfoot, or see your music cease altogether. The silence will not be kind to you_. 

“Primogen, yes… I am a primogen of your church, aren’t I?”

His words are not rehearsed, and yet they come naturally, dripping from his tongue like the honeyed poison Brassica is so good at peddling. 

“One of your coveted miracle workers, like Alfredi- except, of course, she has been excommunicated for attempted murder- a dread misuse of her _gifts_. Like you, then. In fact, just yesterday, the two of us spoke in this very church, didn’t we, Belizabeth?”

The lack of respect grates on her, but her eyes are turned to him and not the crowd, and her smile doesn’t waver. He takes his time reaching his point. A last appearance to be maintained, old habits refusing to die so easily.

“Just yesterday, we spoke… and yet, you truly have no idea what you have allowed to enter your beloved church?”

There it is, the smallest spark of doubt. Not of her faith, no- Lapin looked into the eyes of Belizabeth Brassica as she sentenced a child to hang and saw no faith and no devotion; nothing but a hunger for power and a willingness to do anything to ensure access to it. 

She hears the edge his words are about to teeter across and the sugar-spun tower of control she has woven around herself in the guise of Hierophant Rex is beginning to crack, ever so slightly. 

He calls on the Sugar Plum magic that hums through him, and feels the threads of his magic grab and cling and _twist_ the morning light streaming through the windows, and he watches the nobles scream as the church darkens. 

It’s a color he finds sickly, personally, but as he includes the range of the spell to include _self_ , he supposes it’s a necessary irritation- and a minor one at that.

Still, the shock lies thick and heavy over the crowd, and no orders have been given for his immediate arrest, so he continues, the words flying fast and pointed, because Lapin knows it will not be long until Belizabeth Brassica gathers her wits-

“A Primogen of your church for decades, how many priests have I ordained, how many lost souls have I counseled? How many witches lurk in your hallowed halls? How many of your own have been tainted by the touch of apostasy?”

He catches the eyes of Sir Theobald in the audience, and has no body language to spare, but his message of _get them out and keep them safe_ must be clear enough, because Theobald does not nod, but his eyes harden. Good. 

“You will find no aid in the records I have burned, and I daresay my students are more well-trained in the art of deception than even I- good luck in burning out the heresy from your church without catching yourself in the pyre, _Belizabeth_ ,” he says, flinging her name from his mouth like even speaking it burns him. 

Lapin has not found much- any- amusement in his long years of deception, too busy quite literally lying for his life to derive much fun from it, but in the second before he casts the spell, seeing horror wash into the eyes of every Bulbian in the room, Lapin feels a vicious smile overtake his face. 

He allows it because no doubt to them, it adds to the image of a mad heretic on his unholy course. Mostly, though, he’s thinking about how all the pieces must be falling into the places he has carved for them in Belizabeth’s mind. 

Unfortunate, that he won’t be able to watch the paranoia eat her alive in person.

He casts the spell that has been building in his words, and Lapin disappears, Liam at his side.

They appear in a cramped alley to a silence that rings like a void in the wake of their dramatic exit. Liam, still bound, holding Preston to his chest, stares blankly at Lapin. 

“What. What? You hate me. Are you killing me? _What_ just happened?”

Lapin unbuttons his outer robes and lets them drop to the ground. His joints are going to kill him, he knows, and Primogen’s robes aren’t exactly great escape garb, but they have what they have. He will make do.

Liam squeaks and Lapin rolls his eyes.

“I don’t know where you acquired the foolish idea that I hate you, but I do not. You are, in fact, one of my more tolerable students. Even if I did, I would not let you be killed. Now,” Lapin cuts the ropes tying Liam’s wrists together.

“I hope you’re ready to run.”

As he begins sprinting through the back alleys of Comida, Liam at his side, somehow still attempting to ask questions, Lapin whispers to himself. _Alea iacta est._ The die has been cast. 

He can only hope the results will be in their favor.

**Author's Note:**

> i had so many latin phrases i wanted to cram into this but i limited myself  
> i dont care that you can only bring one person with you with thunderstep, preston is ALIVE and hes THRIVING  
> i really hope it's clear that amethar isn't stupid- he's a soldier and a war guy, he is not built for politics  
> did you know thunderstep is instantaneous and only requires a verbal component. thats right. lapin powered his badass escape spell with a sick fucking burn, love my rabbit grandpa


End file.
